At least now I can say that I got up and wrote something today. There, I did it!
The day isn’t a waste now. Sometimes it’s that easy, sometimes not. But as with all writers who keep a record of their thoughts and experiences, the question is always, “what’s next?” My journalism professor, friend, and sometimes mentor Hank tells his students and advisees to go out every day and have an adventure, then write about it. The day has just begun, and I expect to do just that.
I’m walking out into the greater COVID-19 wasteland, boarding a subway train, and heading to work. I don’t have much of a choice because though we’ve been freed to telecommute, my employer hasn’t supplied enough bandwidth over their VPN to allow much work to happen. Testing systems during a public health emergency is against every principle of disaster management, but they’re failing spectacularly.
I’m taking my friends Lysol and Clorox with me. They’re stone-cold killers. Purell is waiting for me there. We’ll shake hands and face this virus riddled world with a brave face. If you see me out there, say “hey!” from a safe distance. I’ll be the guy not wearing a mask. Masks are for heroes like doctors and nurses.
Here I go…
That feeling when you get to the Metro station and are immediately confronted with Corona.
I have to admit that yesterday my daughter stopped by the grocery store to stock up on toilet paper (they were out) but scored me a twelve pack of Corona Extra.
It was on sale for some reason. I guess some people don’t share our morbid sense of humor?
Work went fine, even though some people don’t get the gist of “hey! six feet… get the flub away from me!” If you try to practice social distancing at the turnstiles, some jackholes are more than willing to volunteer to cut in front of you, because ya know that extra three seconds she saved is gonna get her so much further down the road to her inattentive husband and eye-rolling tween.
Stay safe out there.